


He Had It Coming

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Identity Porn, M/M, Matchmaking, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lois breaks up with Clark. Brucie comes along to help Clark over his heartbreak. Lois decides to get Clark over his new heartbreak by setting him up on a date, with Batman. <br/>Yeah, this is going to go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Had It Coming

I’m not sure what I just witnessed, but I blame the Blue and Silver Ball. What was that, a year ago? A fundraiser to help rebuild Gotham after the earthquake, so Wayne had to be there. He’d dropped off the face of the Earth right after the quake, but when he resurfaced he headed the charge to rebuild that beleaguered city. Bubble brain Brucie, who normally exhibited the intelligence of week old coleslaw, used big words in his impassioned speeches to rebuild. Everybody was too shocked to listen, but I think they all agreed to reopen Gotham just to shut him up. It was creepy watching him talk like that! Right, and to rescue that Tim Drake kid who got stuck in No Man’s Land, whatever. 

I clearly remember that fundraiser though, because of what Bruce wore and Clark said. Bruce is always in classically elegant dark suits that somebody else picks out, probably that antique butler. I really should look into what Brucie is paying that man, and why he hasn’t retired yet. I went to the Blue and Silver Ball to ask Brucie where he pulled this brain from, the one that had him making coherent speeches. Themed event, everybody was supposed to wear blue and silver, but I had that covered with an evening dress that does fantastic things to my boobs. I had to rent Clark a decent suit, dark blue instead of the powder blue tux with ruffles fashion disaster Kent would have picked out. Took Clark with me, because the invite had his name on it. 

Clark has never been able to tell me why Brucie likes him to do all his press, but I think somebody figured out Clark wouldn’t press for an answer to questions Brucie didn’t know. I’ll never tell Clark that, because I love the lug like a brother, now that he has the whole dating thing out of his system. I could see the crush in his eyes like he was wearing a neon sign, but I’ll admit to being a lot more fun to worship from afar. We were still trying to make a go of it when I dragged him to that thing. We danced but even Clark could tell we were circling Brucie like vultures, trying to get through that cloud of ignorance that hid him from view. 

I don’t know where he gets these people. How can there be that many wealthy people who make Brucie the smart one? Fine, he’s got enough sexual magnetism to start a new magnetic pole, but the idiocy makes my brain hurt. And I’m not just bitter because of how he treated me during our dating attempt. The first couple of dates were all about getting the inside scoop on Superman, and then it was about Clark. I never understood that. Everybody drools over Superman, and even villains have tried to use me to get to him. But suddenly deciding Kent was worth knowing about? For normal people who could recognize a decent guy when they saw one, sure, but for Brucie? Anyway! 

Brucie’s followers ran off and I seized Clark’s hand and dragged him forward to confront Brucie. His back was to us, so I could see Brucie’s excellent butt had been poured into those dark blue pants. I didn’t think much of the long sleeved, light blue shirt until he turned around at my call. That shade of blue had his eyes glowing, a source of light in the brightly lit ball room. To this day, I get shot of lust through my groin at that image. I’m just glad he doesn’t wear that color all the time; he has enough sex as it is. From reports I’ve heard anyway, it didn’t seem to matter what I wore or did, he never slept with me while he was asking about Clark. But I’m not bitter, and I’m not the only one affected. 

I was pulling Clark behind me when Brucie turned and grinned at us. I kept moving but Clark didn’t, and it almost ripped my arm out. Farm boys are generally strong, but I think Clark must have used cows as barbells. Bruce took two steps toward us and spoke. 

“Hey Clark, Lois. I’m glad you could make it.” 

“Bruce, you look beautiful!” 

I’m looking at Brucie when Clark says this, so I get to see his reaction. Surprise shows in his face and what I swear was hope, before Clark is backtracking. Disappointment crosses Brucie’s features for an instant before he’s vacant and empty again. So Brucie swings whichever way the wind blows, no surprise there, but Clark? 

“I’m sorry, Bruce, I was surprised, I guess I’m not used to seeing you in anything except black. You know, the suit, suits! Or are they tuxedoes because I’ve never really understood the difference, unless it really is just the tail bits that hang off the back. You know me, jeans and flannel unless Lois dresses me. Not that I’m her doll or anything, but I don’t normally care about more than function and covering things.” 

I think Clark could have blushed and rambled for a while longer, but Brucie gives a fake laugh and looks to me with a wink. 

“Stake your claim well Lois, or I’ll have him batting for the other team!” 

Clark blushes so deeply that I think I can feel his hand in mine warming up, but that’s a biologic impossibility. I don’t have a clue what to say about that comment, or the slight edge to his voice that says it might be more than a joke, so I jump into reporter mode. “Teams like the Gotham Knights? I hear you’re paying to rebuild the stadium when there are people still homeless.” 

“Actually, I just bought into the Knights team so I would have the influence to push back stadium construction while those resources go to building essentials, like homes and schools.” He’s still completely vacant as he says this, like it’s something he memorized and now regurgitates. He shrugs at me and I see his crowd coming back, trying to sneak up on him. Like an entire crowd of drunken women in high heels and swishy men in silver shirts can sneak up on anybody. “Anyway, that’s what Fox said.” 

He turns away and is either genuinely surprised to see the sycophants back or he’s the greatest actor of his generation. Fine, camera shy Lucius Fox is the brains of this outfit. Putting Clark’s embarrassment out of my mind is easy at this point, and I’m planning out how to get an interview with Fox as I walk away. Clark follows, but his blush takes a really long time to fade. I haven’t seen him blush that deeply in the year since, but I expected him to tonight. 

A party in Metropolis celebrating a joint project between Queen Industries and Wayne Enterprises. Everybody wants to know how those two got together and if the whole thing is just an excuse to undercut Luther Co. Queen has a fondness for green, so the little number I’m wearing should get his attention. I put Clark in a white tux that he shouldn’t look that good in. White clothes make people look blurry and strain the eyes, not that I intended for Clark to look like a marshmallow. I’m not at all jealous or bitter that Clark got an invite to this when the press was not invited. 

Clark brought me because I made him, pointing out that he needed a plus one or he would look like a pathetic fool who couldn’t get a date. That line has always worked on him, especially in the last six months since we broke up, but he seemed to take it to heart this time. I plan on hooking him up with that blonde from the copy room to make it up to him. I figure I’ll have to tell him six months is the socially acceptable time period for mourning a relationship like ours, and at least we can still be partners at work. 

We’re vulturing Brucie again, trying for a break in the crowd so I can get in to talk to him. Magically, the crowd leaves, laughing at Brucie’s suggestion even as they go to do it. I don’t know what he said, and don’t want to know. Those lemmings of his do whatever he wants, and if I didn’t know better I’d swear he gets rid of them because they irritate him too. That’s not possible, because it would mean Brucie had more brains than a goldfish with a three second memory. He walks towards Clark and me with a suggestive smile, and I’m really glad he’s back in the black that tones down his beauty. 

“Hey gorgeous, how about a dance?” 

I smile and have a coy response on my tongue when he reaches out and takes Clark’s hand! I’m embarrassed and so insulted I almost don’t notice the look on Clark’s face. He’s too damned shocked to even blush, but he goes with Brucie. I know from experience that if Clark doesn’t want to move, he doesn’t. Like he’s even stronger than he looks with all his farm working muscles. Shouldn’t the thought of dancing with another man in public make him stumble, pause and blush? Instead, I’m standing here like a damn wallflower, watching Brucie put the moves on Clark. I should interrupt, I should tell Clark that Brucie isn’t worth his time and there are much better men to go gay for. 

Standing here like a fool, I find I could write a book on seduction based on what I’m watching Brucie do to Clark. Clark is nervous, shy, so Brucie starts out with a mid-tempo dance that doesn’t have much touching. The next song is faster, giving Clark a chance to loosen up and relax a little. A third dance involves a slow tune and Brucie demurely leaving room between them as they dance. Clark relaxes a little more, thinking this is just for fun. Four more fast songs, and Clark looks like he’s having fun finally. It’s almost like Brucie memorized the playlist and planed his seduction attempt accordingly. A ridiculous idea I roll my eyes at, just as another slow song starts. Brucie has apparently forgotten about his demure act from before and decides their ribs need to meet. 

Clark’s not an idiot, he’s just a little lost when it comes to certain things the rest of the world takes for granted. Like the way big city boys take advantage of innocents from small towns. I honestly expect him to come to his senses, blush and back away at any time. I wonder where Brucie’s empty headed entourage has gone; at least their presence would make Clark remember himself. Glancing around the room, I find them huddled in a corner, shooting Clark envious looks even as they bitch about him to each other. They seem to respect that Brucie has cut his prize from the herd and is not to be disturbed. 

I look back at Clark and Brucie, only to notice that Brucie has managed to get so close to Clark that they can only sway to the music. Legs intertwined like a melting yen-yang symbol. I see what is happening, and I stop breathing because I can’t believe it. Clark Kent, small town boy and my favorite plaything, moves his head to kiss Brucie. Naturally Brucie kisses back, since he started this little game, but I don’t know what he did that got Clark aggressive enough to move in for that kiss. And, yes, I’m embarrassed by the lust that watching that little kiss is giving me. 

My Clark is a good kisser, but shy. He never figured out kissing is sex for your mouth that’s acceptable in public. Brucie knows this, mainly because kissing and sex is all he does, so he uses his mouth to suggest other things they could do. And it’s a suggestion that Clark takes to heart, as the fire in his eye that I can see makes his eye look almost red. Even as he climaxed in me, he never looked so turned on that he could shoot heat beams from his eyes. Give me half a chance and I’ll have Superman lighting up the sky like that, but I never managed to do it for Clark. Maybe repressed feelings for Brucie are why, because from here that looks like more than lust. I don’t understand it, I can’t believe it even as I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, but my Clark is in love with Brucie Wayne. 

The song ends, and Brucie breaks the kiss to whisper in Clark’s ear. Now Clark does blush but he lets Brucie steer him to a balcony with a hand in the small of his back. Oh, I have to see this, so I start to follow. Brucie’s stupidity swarm moves between us as if on command, and they cover the dance floor. No shot at Brucie tonight, so they are selecting their pick of his leftovers. I have to go around them to make it to the balcony, where I creep as slowly and softly as I can around the curtain. I need to see how far Clark is willing to take this, but as I slide slowly passed the curtain all I see is an empty balcony. 

It didn’t take long enough to go around the dance floor for them to get out here, talk, kiss, make-out and leave. I know this has to be the balcony they went to, but I check the others just to be sure. Lots of other couples that should interest the reporter in me, but no Brucie and no Clark. I circle the party and check every secluded spot that could hide two horny men and get nothing. For fifty dollars and half a pack of breath mints I get a waiter to check in the men’s room, and none of the couples he reports on match my targets. It’s the mystery that intrigues me; I’m in no way jealous that they went for each other instead of me. And I absolutely do not feel cheated that I didn’t get to watch two beautiful, well made men make out. If Clark is lucky, I’ll wait until Monday morning to make him explain this to me. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark isn’t lucky, he’s astronomically lucky, because if he had any less luck, I would’ve been camped out in his place until he talked to me. He doesn’t answer his cell all day Saturday, so it’s Sunday afternoon before I’m letting myself into his apartment. I gave back the key from when we were together; I only accidentally kept the copy I made for emergencies. 

Using the skills I’ve learned from years of sticking my nose where other people didn’t want it, I decide Clark hasn’t been back to his apartment since before that Friday night party. Skill, and the fact that the garment bag and return ticket for the white tux is still here. Clark might as well be a Boy Scout, because when it comes to deadlines he’s right there and ready. The tux is on my card and it was supposed to go back Saturday. If he forgot, I’m pretty sure his new boyfriend is the reason, and financially able to pay me back. 

I wonder how sudden this little change in Clark is so I head to the bathroom. No skin magazines of either orientation, no suspicious lotions. The bedroom: no magazines, no lotion, no videos, not even a picture of Brucie. On the dresser with his family pictures is a framed humorous article from the Daily Planet, in which an artist’s rendering of the urban legend Batman, is photo-shopped (badly) onto the picture of the JL. Fine, he’s in the JL fan club and doesn’t own porn. What is he, 12? 

I thought he hid those things around me, but maybe he’s just too nice a guy to buy porn. Actually, I can’t picture Clark ever getting the courage to ask the clerk to hand him those types of magazines. Brucie I can see posing for those magazines, and if he talked Clark into posing with him? From what I’ve felt, Clark’s got a hot little body and I never understood why we had to make out in the dark. It’s like he thinks he’s taking off his glasses so everybody else should be blind too. I don’t care about orientation; everybody would need a copy of those two posed together. 

I take a minute to let that little wave of lust subside; before I decide I need to hack into Clark’s laptop. If he’s got any interest in porn, his web browser will tell me. I’m back in the living room area before I notice Clark is standing at the window, staring out at the unimpressive view. He’s still wearing that tux, so at least Brucie doesn’t have to pay for a new one. Still, Friday night to almost Sunday evening is a pretty long walk of shame, and why didn’t I hear him klutz his way in? 

“Smallville!” He jumps and turns to me with his hand on his glasses, like he just put them on. They must have bounced when he jumped at my voice. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling like mad!” 

“Hi, Lois.” He tries for normal, but he’s still dazed looking, like he was when Brucie asked him to dance. “I was out, busy. Why are you here?” 

Oh, crap! I hadn’t expected him to get to that question so quick. “That tux was supposed to be back yesterday. Apparently they missed it enough to call me, since I paid for it.” 

“I’m sorry. I’ll go change and take it back.” A quick glance out the balcony again and he heads for the bedroom. I don’t even know if that place is open on Sunday, so if I send him to do it I might get caught in my little lie. 

“I’ll take it back so I can talk them out of charging extra. You can change and then tell me where you disappeared to.” He looks back at me and blushes so deep, I know it was Brucie’s hotel room and they only stopped for room service. That knowledge must have shown on my face, because he’s suddenly hotfooting it for the bedroom. It takes him a half hour to change into jeans and flannel. If I didn’t know it was impossible, I’d swear he was forcing himself not to blush as he brings me the tux. “Details, Kent!” 

“Lois! I don’t…” He trails off and forces me to finish his sentence for him. 

“Kiss and tell, Clark? That implies that there was kissing, and with Brucie that means more than kissing.” He looks out the stupid balcony again before he answers in a soft voice. 

“Fine, I went to his hotel room and had sex with him. It was short and incredibly stupid and will never happen again, so please don’t talk about it.” I can hear the pain in his voice and it breaks my iron encased heart. I’m the only one that messes with the people I care about! Protective instincts I don’t even admit to having flare up and I’m ready to tear Brucie a new one, except he’d probably enjoy it. 

“No, Clark. We are talking about it, now. I’m not leaving until you explain every damn bit of this to me!” I’m not kidding, and he knows it, but I toss the tux on the couch before settling gracefully on it myself. He’s staring at me, trying to get me to see that he really doesn’t want to talk about it. As far as I’m concerned, he gave up all rights to getting what he wants when he finally had his chance at Brucie and blew it. If he’s been in love with Brucie as long as it looked like at the party, it’s been coming on for a while. 

Clark’s incredibly patient, I know that, but I’m tenacious. When I want something, I don’t let it go. Right now, I want to fix Clark’s life and I’m not about to let this go. He gives in and glances around the apartment like he’s looking for hidden microphones or something. Satisfied with his little survey, he goes over to lean against the balcony door while he talks. 

“You’re almost as bad as he is, I don’t know why I fall for that type.” 

He’s muttering so I’m sure I didn’t hear that right. There is no way in hell I’m anything like Brucie, let alone ‘almost’ as much of him at anything! He sighs but speaks at his normal tone, so I’m sure what I’m hearing is correct. I don’t believe it, but Clark does. 

“Bruce planned the whole thing, thought I was moping over you too long. I’m sure if I looked hard enough, I would find the schematics and plans somewhere. The invite to the party, the dancing, the seduction, the kissing, and his spontaneous suggestions. He had prearranged his time off, and meals! Who does that? Yes, I’m bringing a fuck buddy and want lunch served at 1:30, supper at 7, and Champaign and strawberries at 9.” 

Clark does an impressive imitation of Brucie’s voice, but he makes it too deep and intelligent. I think Clark must have learned his new vocabulary from Brucie, because a week ago he wouldn’t have known the word fuck, let alone fuck buddies. He’s trying to mutter again, but I can still hear him well enough. 

“I should have known, or at least suspected. Maybe that’s why I just enjoyed it instead of trying to talk to him, tell him how I feel. Not that silly things like emotions matter to him!” His voice gets louder with anger, almost yelling. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him angry enough to yell, and I find I don’t want him to be hurt that badly. “He had a lunch meeting today. Did he tell me about it? No! I was just supposed to feel privileged he could squeeze me in between important things like meetings.” 

He’s pacing now, and talking with his hands, trying to burn off that angry energy before he explodes. I get a nice image of a bound and gagged Brucie at the mercy of this Clark, but it’s ruined by the knowledge that Brucie would enjoy that too. 

“He goes into the bathroom, comes out showered and dressed and tries to make it out the door without saying anything to me! So I grab his arm and he has the nerve to look annoyed! I get that he’s going to work because of his suit, so I ask, quite reasonably I think, when I get to see him again. He shrugs and says ‘at work’. I’m a little confused, so I ask what this was all about then. He turns all Brucie on me, kisses me on the forehead and says he just wanted to show me I had more options than you, and I should get over you! My brain is exploding, my heart is breaking and he slips out the door without another word. He goes to his meeting and flies back to Gotham. I would have destroyed that hotel room but he probably budgeted that into his plans!” 

Brucie is a greedy bastard, with people throwing themselves at his feet and this is how he treats them? Hell, most of them probably don’t even get the full day of Brucie’s time, so maybe he really does expect Clark to feel privileged. Clark is leaning his back to the doorframe, returning to that dazed, lost look he had when I first saw him. Angry Clark is impressive and him I can see fixing things or getting revenge. This Clark is going to sit back and take it, and I have no idea why. How do I fix this? 

“Clark, think about it. Brucie’s a moron, there is no way he could have planned any of this. He probably had that butler of his sending up meals from the kitchen.” 

Clark snorts at my words. “Alfred wouldn’t have aided Bruce with this, that’s why he had to do it in a hotel in Metropolis.” 

So Clark knows the butler? How and why? Why does the butler have so much say in Brucie’s life? 

“Still, Brucie with a plan? Are you sure there isn’t some dating consultant he hired to do this for him, like that movie?” I’m trying for a joke, more as a distraction than to actually cheer him up. Clark only stares outside as he mutters. 

“Bruce and his plans.” 

“Why do you call him Bruce?” The question is out before I can think about it, because after I say it I realize it’s not important. But Clark glances at me with a closed expression that makes me curious. I see him change somehow, like he’s trying to force himself to be easygoing about his response. I want to believe him when he speaks, but it tugs at my mind. 

“It’s his name. Besides, doesn’t saying Brucie just make you feel stupid?” 

Actually it makes me feel like I’m two years old when I think about it, but that’s what all his friends call him. Maybe figuring out why Clark thinks he knows Bruce better than his society friends will help me fix this. 

“How exactly did you get close enough to him to fall in love?” 

“I’m not in love with him!” 

“Try again, Clark. And try it on somebody who doesn’t know you.” If he’s going to start lying, this will take forever. 

“The guy’s a jerk, and I don’t want to feel this for him. Give me some time, and I’ll be over him, whatever I feel for him now.” 

“Many times in my life, I’ve compared love to a forty-eight hour virus.” I’m not good at sarcasm, but the look he gives me suggests he picked up on my attempt. Must be somebody in his life teaching him the joys of sarcasm, though I don’t know who. 

“My first impression of him was that he was a self-important, thrill-seeking brat with a lot of toys. I’ve only got to go back to thinking of him that way, and everything will be fine.” 

He puts on a brave face, but I know better. I put on a brave face too, but I’m still head-over-heels in love with a guy I don’t know anything about except he drops out of the sky to save my life on a regular basis. Next crisis, maybe I should talk Superman into drop kicking Brucie into the sun. That, even he wouldn’t enjoy! No, earthbound problem, earthbound solution, I just have to find it. And I think I’ve gotten all the information I can out of Clark about this problem, since he’s stopped giving me specific answers to questions. But I can’t leave him alone to wallow in self-pity while I figure it out. 

“So what are you buying me for dinner?” 

“I’ll be fine, Lois. You can go about your life.” 

“You’re not dressed to go out, so I’ll get Vietnamese take-away.” He’s giving me a calculating look, so I send him the look that say’s I’m not going anywhere. 

“I’ll order, so the delivery boy doesn’t feel the need to spit in our food.” 

“Hey! It’s not like your nose is sensitive enough to smell it, so I’ve only got your word that my English lessons aren’t appreciated.” 

“Lois, ‘be late again and I’m gonna get ya’ sucka’ doesn’t count as a tip or an English lesson.” 

Whatever, but chiding me for my occasionally abrasive nature has taken his mind partially off Brucie. As that’s my goal for this evening, I have no problem with that. I might have to sleep here to keep him from sinking into his regrets, I might even have to sleep with him, but I’m not letting Brucie pull my Clark into a pit. Ok, fine. He’s not my Clark; I gave that up when I broke up with him. But Brucie was even dumber than I thought if he didn’t notice the love Clark has for him. And, Brucie was under the impression he could damage Clark without payback, he so had another think coming. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

It took a lot of convincing, but Perry finally gave in and paid for this little trip. He might have done it to get our Clark back or to shut me up, but I don’t care about that. I let the cab leave, so if nothing else I can expect hospitality while another one is called. The thick door and walls of Wayne Manor don’t let me hear the doorbell, so I amuse myself trying to imagine what it sounds like. A simple ding-dong would have been a comment on the master of the house, so it’s probably classical music or something. The door opens, and it’s that antique butler that follows Brucie around to wipe his nose. 

“Miss Lane, Master Wayne is not at home.” Fine, so butlers are required to be British, but how does he know my name? 

“That’s fine; I’m here to talk to you!” I try for bright and cheerful, instead of demanding, but I have a hard time with that. 

“Me? I assure you, Miss Lane, I do not have anything newsworthy to say.” He’s totally believable when he says that, so I know it’s a lie. Very, very interesting, but I’m here for Clark and not my own curiosity. 

“You don’t? Oh well, but my cab seems to have left. Do you think I could wait inside for the next one?” He’s looking at me without a change in his professional butler face, but I know he knows exactly what I’m up to. Since I never retreat, I push ahead. “We could talk while I wait!” 

He has a serious case of professional butler ethics because he stands aside so I can enter, and I do before he can change his mind. 

“Miss Lane, if you would follow me?” 

I figure it’s rhetorical, so I don’t answer as I look around. Something bothers me about this house. It’s clean and visually stunning but somehow more like a museum than a home. I follow into what I guess is a sitting room, and find a portrait of a handsome man and beautiful woman beaming down at me. The name plate tells me this is not a museum; it’s a mausoleum. The clack of a phone being put down brings me back to here and now, so I realize the butler has finished a phone call. 

“Alternative transportation will be here shortly. Would you care for some refreshments while you wait?” 

“Don’t put yourself out for me! I do want to talk to you, Mr.?” I flutter my eyes a little; hoping a young woman flirting will put him off his game. I don’t have much time to get through to this guy, but he’s been a servant all his life so he’s got to be a pushover. 

“Alfred, Miss Lane.” His voice lets me know the flirting is not appreciated. “I do have my duties to attend to.” 

“Fine!” That came out a little snarlyer than intended, but a girl likes to be appreciated. ”I want to know what kind of a man you raised!” 

That gets to him, if his sudden stiffness is any sign. “I am sure I do not know what you mean.” 

“Really? The Waynes get murdered, and their son without any other relatives, doesn’t spend a single night in state care. Two meetings with a social services caseworker, who conveniently retires two years later a wealthy woman, and you have custody and control of his money. Now, almost twenty years later, you still work here, even though your net worth would let you buy this house outright. And that’s just the money I was able to trace, I’m sure a forensic accountant would get a lot further. I honestly don’t care what little scheme you’re running on Brucie, that moron deserves it!” 

The almost unemotional look he’s giving me tells me I’m treading a thin line, and warning bells go off in my mind. I wonder if I’m going to need Superman to save me from a butler, but dismiss it as I move in for the kill. “What kind of man is Bruce Wayne that he could hurt Clark that bad?” 

I expect denials of what my research has found, and I didn’t even mention the fact that until he came to work for the Wayne family, Alfred Pennyworth didn’t even exist. Heartfelt protestations of his blind loyalty to the Waynes I could handle, but he only blinks at me a couple of times before speaking, softly, and professionally. 

“Might one inquire as to what transgression Master Bruce has inflicted upon Master Kent?” 

This time, I hear him say ‘this time’ even thought he doesn’t. How weird is that and does it mean Brucie pulls crap on Clark often? What is going on between those two? Why does Alfred call him Master Kent? I don’t know, but maybe Alfred can help fix it, so it’s time to shoot the works and go for the truth. 

“Two Fridays ago, Brucie seduced Clark. They were secluded in a hotel room until Brucie’s Sunday lunch meeting. I browbeat Clark into admitting they had sex, and Brucie hasn’t as much as emailed Clark since then.” Suddenly, I like Alfred and I’m digging the fire in his eye. Maybe I should flirt with him for real; he is independently wealthy and knows several articles worth of dirt on Brucie. “I can’t have Clark drooping all over the bullpen.” 

“Indeed, Miss Lane. I shall look into the situation.” I think he’s got more to say, but that heavy front door interrupts by closing. He heads out of the room even as I hear Brucie’s hated voice calling for him. 

“Alfred? You got anything ready? I got an emergency…” I never expected it of a polite to a fault, British born butler, but he interrupts Brucie. 

“Master Wayne.” His voice is pure professional, dead of emotions. It’s a shame Brucie is too brain dead to notice subtle disapproval like that. 

“Date with twins.” Only Brucie could have an emergency date, and I use the disgust this pulls up in me to emerge from the sitting room spitting fire. 

“You need to have an emergency date with Clark, you fruit loop! I have no idea why, but that fool is totally in love with you! If you don’t fix this in the next two days I’ll give you so much bad press that your stock will plummet! And if that’s too hard for your pea brain to understand try this. You will be so poor after my smear campaign that you’ll be Alfred’s butler!” I didn’t plan to say all that and I don’t have any stories to back it up with. As far as I can tell, W.E. is as squeaky clean as their PR says they are, but I get to insult Brucie to his vapid face. Always a plus! 

“Wait, I’m confused.” No surprise there, but he continues. “For a smear campaign, don’t you need a publisher of your smearing?” 

“Yes, Brucie! It’s called _The Daily Planet_ , one of the most respected newspapers in the world.” 

“ _The Daily Planet_ , in Metropolis?” 

“Yes, Brucie!” 

“The one I just bought?” 

I think several minutes have passed while I replicate the vacant, confused, slack jawed look of Brucie’s face with my own. He must be thinking really hard about the topic for those several minutes, because he finally says something more. 

“I don’t know about these things, you’re the reporter or is it reportess? Whatever. But I don’t think a paper would run a bagel campaign on its owner. Wouldn’t its stock go down as well, if it had stock? No comment, Lois, I’ve got a date to get ready for!” 

A bawdy wink and I’m left to scream down the hallway after him. “It’s a smear campaign, not a bagel campaign you moron!” 

“Miss Lane, your car is here.” I’m numb as I follow Alfred outside. Brucie’s limo is pulling away, but there is a town car parked in front of the steps. Alfred opens the door for me and I get in. I’m beginning to like this numbness and think I just might stay this way forever. Except Alfred bows down a little to speak to me. “I will look into the situation with Master Kent.” 

The door is closed and the numbness is gone. I’m given the two hours back to Metropolis to think about what I’m going to put down for ‘reason for termination from last job’ on my next few hundred job applications. Maybe Alfred will hire me as a maid. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

And yes, it’s front page news the next morning, and my name’s not on the byline. Maybe Perry let me go to Gotham hoping I’d find some reason to stop Brucie from buying _The Daily Planet_.Or maybe he sent me so I’d be out of the way and somebody else could write the article, but that sounds too sneaky for Perry. Clark doesn’t say anything, but I know him, and I know he’s not happy being dependent on Brucie for his living. The bastard already bought Clark’s apartment building a couple of years ago. 

At least my pink slip hasn’t made it to my desk yet, though I am hording office supplies. So when Clark’s phone rings, shortly before lunch, I get to see him do a classic double take. A quick glance from his computer to the phone caller id and back turns into a stare for a full three rings before he answers. Disappointment crashes in his face when he hears the voice on the other end and I wish I could hear it too. 

“Hello?” 

“Lois did what?” 

“No! Don’t let him push you away.” 

“He needs you!” 

“Where?” 

“OK, but I am sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault either.” 

“Goodbye.” 

He hangs up to give me this look, like I’m an interfering bitch. Like that’s newsworthy. 

“What, Smallville?” 

“That was Alfred, Bruce’s butler. You might remember him, since you went and harassed him yesterday. He discussed the situation with Bruce and has decided to leave Bruce’s employ.” 

“Not a crisis! I know good help is hard to find, but your precious Bruce won’t even notice. And Alfred? That man had an outstanding salary and no expenses. He put away more than enough for his retirement, which he richly deserves.” So I’m a little defensive, even as I try to sound lighthearted. I was only trying to help. 

“Alfred raised Bruce! He loves him and you went over there and told him his son is a heartless bastard!” Clark is hissing at me in an effort not to raise his voice in the office but still show his anger. 

“Well he is and your infatuation is blinding you to that fact. Fact Smallville! Consider the way he treated you!” I have no problems raising my voice in an office setting, or anywhere else for that matter. He jerks to his feet and growls down at me. 

“I’m going to lunch.” He almost pulls down the coat rack when he goes for his jacket but doesn’t even notice. I watch him go and find a new thought in my brain. Fix his problems with Brucie? How am I going to do that when I’ll be busy fixing my problems with Clark? 

sB _Sb_ Bs

I guess multimillion dollar purchases aren’t completed overnight, because it’s three months later before the official ceremony transferring ownership of the paper to Brucie. I’m surprised, but I’m still here. Still, I go out of my way to avoid Brucie’s line of sight when he visits, just in case he remembers he wanted to fire me. Clark and I have found a weird sort of peace, in that as long as I don’t mention Brucie, Alfred, Gotham, Batman or any of the other news coming out of that crazy town, he doesn’t get mad. Except Brucie breaks that truce by showing up here for pictures and a celebratory party. 

During the mandatory speeches I watch Clark out of the corner of my eye, and he stares at Bruce with an expression Mr. Spock would be proud of. Brucie manages to do the speeches and signing without even seeing me or Clark. During the pictures, one of the photographers calls out to him and he turns automatically. He sees Clark, and his face changes for half a second. If I wasn’t watching for it, I probably could have dismissed it as a trick of the flash. Instead I get a strange vibe as he turns away. I want to figure out that look, decide what emotion was behind it, but Jimmy comes screaming into the conference room. 

“You got to see this! Batman is on TV!” 

Chaos and confusion as a room crammed with people race to get to the TV. While I’m shoving my way through the scrum, I get to wonder at the anger on Brucie’s face. Was he pissed because Batman stole his spotlight or did I see it wrong as I was turning away? I get out there to see the screen, and have to snarl at Jimmy. 

“This is the same crappy JL footage they’ve been showing for three days!” 

“No! They show that so people know what it was and then they show the new footage.” 

It’s always irritated me, but for some reason half the JL footage never turns out right. They’ll be fighting something or someone and the image disappears. Usually, when it reappears, the stupid fight is over. This was Superman, Wonder Woman, and the Green Lantern chasing some weird flying thing with the setting sun in the background. Superman’s giving orders when the smoke starts billowing out of the UFO. It explodes and the JL flies toward it just as the cameras cut off. The news anchor pops up, jabbers and then they roll the new footage. 

The quality sucks but it’s focused in on Superman, so I like the cameraman. After the explosion, he rockets up so fast the cameraman almost loses him, but he levels off to start catching these bundles. Something black drops on his back, and I think it’s debris until he doesn’t shake it off. He bounces a little in the air as he adjusts s to the blackness while grabbing a fifth bundle and a hand pops out of the blackness. 

Batman, freaking actually really real Batman throws out a hand for balance as he adjusts to inconceivably riding unstoppable Superman like a surfboard! Then he grabs and has two bundles of his own before his lips move. Superman moves like a well trained horse, so Batman can lean to his left, knee bent and right foot hooked around Superman’s ribs, as he reaches out to catch a third bundle. Arms full, they take a last look around before heading for the ground and are lost behind buildings. 

In the silence that follows we get to hear the interview with the cameraman. He says he’s 83, but I think he’s pushing 400. Says he got the camera at a pawn shop and had the hardest time finding tapes for it. In the digital age, the man sells a vhs cassette for a million dollars. Un-fricken-believable! Maybe the urban legend has a device that kills cameras around him and the computer skills to delete digital footage from his the safety of his cave in Gotham. It doesn’t sound plausible, but I bet Clark fifty bucks Batman wasn’t real either. 

They put up a digitally enhanced picture of the bundles, and they look like baby Ewoks. They scream and move like babies to me, even if they are covered with fur. Next time I see Superman, I going to have so many questions to ask, but what else is new? I watch the footage a couple more times before deciding it doesn’t look faked to me. 

The office is going nuts, with a volume level I haven’t heard since the first footage of Superman showed up. People are asking Jimmy questions about what he saw while we were stuck watching speeches and Perry is shouting orders. Looking into the conference room, I see Brucie staring out the window as he talks on his phone. A sudden arctic blizzard the first week of November is strange for Metropolis, but not interesting enough to stare at, so I hope it’s his phone call that has his interest. 

Clark is sitting at his desk, typing on his computer. Seriously? Long awaited proof that Batman is real, in the JL and friends with Superman and JL fanboy Clark is working? I know this has to do with Brucie being so damn close. I fight my way over there and perch on the edge of his desk. I have no idea what to say, and settle for reminding him that I owe him fifty bucks I can’t pay when Brucie joins us. 

“Hey, Lois, hey Clark.” He still looks vacant, but this close he seems off somehow. He leans against the desk on the other side of Clark and playfully nudges his foot. “Listen Clark, the party has been canceled because of the snow. They’re even working on closing the airports, so I was wondering if you knew of some secret way of getting out of town. I’ve got a date in Gotham, not just hot but atomic hot, if you know what I mean!” 

I do not suffer fools gladly, so it’s only my love for Clark that keeps me polite sounding. “You should have checked the weather before you came.” 

“I did check!” 

He snarls at me and it should be funny but I have a sudden need to pee. For just a second, I see cracks in the Brucie façade and can almost accept it as an act he’s putting on. In that second, I start to see what attracts Clark to Brucie. No, this is Bruce, isn’t it? 

“Sorry Lois, babe, think it must be jet lag or something. But I did check the weather before I came, seventy-eight degrees and calm.” 

“Are you sure your computer’s not stuck on the weather for Maui again?” Clark speaks in a dead voice, like it hurts him to do Bruce the tiny favor of pointing out his computer is wrong, but to not help is even more painful. Or maybe these two have concocted an elaborate plan to drive me nuts. 

“Maybe.” He shrugs and he’s Brucie again, somehow. What the hell? “So Clark, about that favor? You know I wouldn’t ask but this girl just called. Maybe you know her, what is her name? Opal, Oprah, Oracle? No, it’s Barbara!” 

“Fine! I’ll do it, even knowing exactly what you’ll say when I need a favor.” Clark starts shutting down his computer, but Brucie can’t leave well enough alone. 

“Hey, anything you want, all you got to do is ask!” He reaches down to touch Clark’s head and Clark slaps his hand away. 

“That’s it Clark, don’t put up with his crap!” I’m surprised I said that out loud, but I don’t need both of them looking at me with shocked faces. But I stick my chin out, defiantly. I mean it, Clark deserves better. And I’m not going to cower in fear from bozo Brucie, the worst he can do is fire me. His look suggests he has a few other ideas on that score but I didn’t need Superman to save me from his butler, I don’t need him to save me from Brucie. “Why don’t you go mess with your inbreed, inebriated, imbecilic friends and leave Clark alone?” 

Bruce comes up off of Clark’s desk like he’s about to show me he can do worse than fire me, but he doesn’t get a step in before Clark’s up, facing him and between us. “Calm down, Brucie!” 

Maybe it was Clark’s unusually commanding tone or the fact that he called him Brucie, but he does back down. The blue ice of his eyes flicks between us before he locks his eyes on mine. He talks to Clark even as he looks at me, Brucie’s voice once again. “I’ll wait by the elevator, but my date’s not going to wait on me too long!” 

His eyes don’t leave mine as he walks away, but I still see him reach out and slap Clark on the butt. It looks like a solid connecting hit, but Clark takes it without reaction. The bastard is marking Clark as his territory, letting me know he can do whatever he wants and I’m helpless. Bruce breaks our eye contact so he can pick up his coat as he walks toward the elevator and I turn on Clark. 

“Clark get away from that asshole! I don’t care what turns you on, you deserve way better! And I’ll see you get it if I have to set you up with every person in this galaxy!” I’m angry, confused and a little scared, but I still mean it. If that’s what it takes, I’ll set him up with Superman the next time I see him! Clark turns sad eyes to me as he pushes his chair in, he’s always so polite. 

“It means a lot to hear you say that, Lois. Thank you, but I think my stupid heart has decided only Bruce will do. Now all I have to do is convince Bruce that he loves me. I know it’s strange to you, but if he didn’t love me he’d act like a decent human being.” His shoulders sag as he shuffles over to Bruce at the elevators, unable to take his eyes off of him any longer than it takes to grab his coat off of the rack. 

It’s not fair! Clark wants and needs Bruce so bad, despite his better judgment. And I have absolutely no idea what the hell is up with Bruce, what he wants or needs or even when I started thinking of him as Bruce instead of Brucie. This is an elaborate plot to drive me insane, and it’s working! 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Gotham in January is beyond cold and I don’t see how the criminals can stand to be out here! Clark is still drooling around after Bruce, and only my love for Clark would have me out here tonight. I’m fine with him being gay, but my first impulse of setting him up with Superman was wrong. Bright, cheerful and helpful, they are too much alike to make a go of it. Besides, Clark likes dark and edgy Bruce, so I decided to set him up with Batman. Crazy? Maybe, but it serves Clark right for making me crazy with his insane love life! Only it’s a tad trickier than one would imagine. 

When he was an unconfirmed urban legend, you could see him hiding in the shadows and avoiding cameras. Three months of testing hasn’t shown that footage to be fake, so what would be the harm in one little interview with me? The rest of the JL doesn’t have problems with questions even if they are camera shy, but they don’t talk about Batman. 

Superman, the outspoken voice of the JL and its most public member, won’t discuss Batman either! He said the baby Ewoks were returned to their home planet, safe and snug, but nothing about the man who helped save them. What in the world could stop Superman from admitting Batman’s existence? Batman knows how to hurt Superman or knows Superman’s secrets? Is he a demon like some say or a cop in a mask? I’m lost in my thoughts and lost in this strange city, so when the thugs advance on me, I’m almost relieved. 

“Hey guys! I’m a bit lost and was wondering if you could help me back to my hotel?” I don’t really expect these guys to turn into upstanding citizens because I ask nicely, but it can’t hurt to try. 

The one starts smacking his baseball bat into his opposing palm, and behind me I hear a laugh. That laugh means there are more than the two facing me, which means I might just be outclassed. Shifting my heavy purse in my hand, I advance and start swinging with a wild yell. It would have worked in Metropolis, or any other city in the world. Here, aggression in the face of overwhelming odds is apparently the standard response. Even as they grab at me and I feel a bat connect with my leg, I notice how my voice is the loudest sound around. Their threats are whispered and covering my mouth seems to be a priority. So I fight, bite, and scream at the top of my lungs. 

There is a startled gasp of pain and a heavy thud, and then they all try to run in different directions. It doesn’t work as something whizzes through the air and cries of pain take down two more. Another few cries of pain tells me a fourth and fifth are down and all I see is lumps of bodies and moving shadow without a source of light. If I’m not going crazy, a puddle of shadow on the ground is growing as it turns to face me and I see only white where there should be eyes. 

I am going crazy because those dim, reflective spots of white are moving closer without a sound and I get enough light to see a chin suddenly. Because Batman is real and I want the thugs back because they were only going to hurt and rob me! I don’t know what Batman wants or what he will do but I know he can do whatever he wants to anybody and o my God is that his voice because if it is he’s speaking to me and I think I will pay attention to what he’s saying as if my life depended on it! 

“Lane.” He knows my name? If he knows my name he knows every little thing I’ve ever done wrong and he will punish me for it! “If you planned this, I will find out.” 

That’s a threat and a promise and I don’t know what he means but he means it and I do NOT want to find out what he means because it will be worse than pain. 

“Enough!” Superman is here! No wonder I love that man! Superman is here to save me from his teammate. I’d sag against the wall in relief if I hadn’t shoved my back against it in fear a short while ago. And the fact that Batman is still dissecting me with his all-seeing pupil free eyes. “I said enough, Batman!” 

A white hand is place on a shadowy shoulder and Superman has to pull Batman away! Why is Batman pissed at me? Or is he this way with everybody? The spots of white turn to stare down Superman and he glowers back. With a growl, Batman is speaking to Superman in a language I can’t determine because his voice is so low. Superman rolls his eyes and replies, in what sounds like Chinese. Another snarl from Batman and Superman dismisses him to talk to me. 

“Hey, Lois. Did you plan this or pay these guys to attack you?” He seems embarrassed to ask, like he thinks it would be beneath me. It’s not; I simply hadn’t gotten that desperate yet. 

“Of course I didn’t! Sure I wanted to meet him but I’m not about to put my life in danger for an interview!” Superman grins at that even as I hear a snort from behind him, so I feel the need to amend that a little. “Not intentionally, anyway.” 

“I told him that.” Superman grins at me, before using his head to gesture over his shoulder. “Off the record, he’s a paranoid jerk.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go on the record with that?” I automatically flirt at him, but I can’t help but wonder at the affection I hear in his voice. A stranger might not notice, but I do. 

“On the record, I can neither confirm nor deny the existence and or involvement of a ‘Batman’ with the JL.” He shrugs at me, but raises his head to call out to Batman, who has apparently moved to the top of the building behind me or something. “Off the record, paranoid jerks that always think the worst of everybody and only care about the mission, deserve to get their butts kicked!” 

I can’t help but laugh, more with relief than humor. Batman is gone and Superman will save me from criminals and him! I finally move away from the way and notice the damp and cold moves with me. I don’t normally get embarrassed, and now I’m blushing because I realized I peed on myself when Batman growled at me. And Superman has told me before that he has enhanced senses. My legs try to flee only to stumble over each other as adrenaline drains from me. Strong arms steady and lift me as we rise into the air. 

“It’s ok, Lois. That’s one of his skills. If it makes you feel any better, he does that to aliens from other planets that have no idea what a bat is.” His voice is soft and kind, but only turning my face into his chest keeps me from crying. 

“Why do you put up with him?” I whisper to his chest without thinking, and he hears me. I know he hears me because he stiffens and avoids the question. 

“Here’s Hotel Gotham. What was your room number?” I should wonder how he even knew what hotel I was staying at, but he’s Superman. 

“5002.” My voice is so soft I barely recognize it. I can’t remember the last time I was that scared, and now I’m exhausted. “How can he be good for the world?” 

“He’s very good for the world!” Maybe I’m even more tired than I thought, but that reaction seemed a little much. I pull my head back to look at a chagrined Superman. “Sorry, Lois. Sometimes it seems that I fight with the JL about that point, only to have to turn around and convince him the JL is good for the world too. Batman is complex and has a different perspective than most people, so the less than pleasant aspects of his personality are just something I have to put up with for the good of the world. Anyway, this is your balcony but the door is locked. I could get you in, but you’d have to pay for the lock.” 

I’m soaked in frozen sweat and urine and he thinks my dignity is giving me options here? “While you break in, tell me why you don’t tell him to learn to put up with you and the JL? Obviously, these problems are interfering with your effectiveness at the mission, putting innocents at risk. Otherwise, you would have rescued me before he showed up, like you normally do.” 

Eyes that a moment ago lasered through the lock on my hotel door, focus on me with a disquieting intensity. 

“His crap is interfering with the mission.” The words are soft and half spoken as amazement pours out of those eyes that make me weak. I’m not even sure what the mission is, but it must be important to them both. He pulls me to him and begins to spin around so fast I think puking would be a good response. I might have mentioned that because he stops and sets me in a chair. The room is blissfully warm, but it’s his smile that makes me think about summer. “I’m sorry about the spinning, but you just gave me the perfect solution! He can’t possibly argue against that! Thank you, Lois, you’re a great friend. I’ll see you soon!” 

Just like that he’s gone, I guess to tell Batman that being nicer to people is good for the mission. I feel empty and deflated, and queasy. But the dizziness will pass. This other feeling suggests something just changed. Whatever it is, I think it has to do with Superman calling me a friend. He drops out of the sky and rescues me, and I make no secret of my love for him. What part of that makes us friends? Or does it mean he likes me, but doesn’t love me the way I want? Does it mean he’ll never like me that way? The nausea has passed so I stumble to the bathroom to bathe. I’m sure this depressed feeling is going to last a while longer, and I find I’d rather have the urge to puke. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Monday morning, I’m two hours late for work and more than a little pissed. Seems a reasonable response when finding out the love of your life doesn’t want you that way. I also feel guilty, because I got so lost in my own little super-drama, I forgot about why I was in Gotham and never even asked Superman to ask Batman if he would date Clark! I plop my crappy cup of lukewarm coffee flavored swill they overcharged me for on my desk and hear Clark humming. 

“Smallville! It’s too early for that peppy crap!” I snap that out at him before it hits me. A humming Clark is a happy Clark, especially if he was humming _Some Kind of Wonderful_ like I think he was. I vulture around the desk to get nice and close for this little chat. “When did you get so happy?” 

“Lois, a dear friend, gave me the key to fixing my problems with Bruce.” His eyes are laughing at me, like he knows something I don’t. I hate that look in anybody’s eyes. “Bruce is considering my arguments as to why we need to be together. A little time and he’ll understand this was meant to be. I know what you think of him, but when you get his heart and head to agree, there’s no stopping him.” 

I stare at Clark, trying to figure this out. There is something here I’m not quite grasping and I need to understand it. I have a feeling it’s like a person with perfect vision wearing fake glasses. You feel insulted when you figure it out but stupid because you didn’t see it sooner. Just one more synaptic connection in my brain and I will figure this out! 

Except Clark sees something over my shoulder that distracts me. He’s getting up and walking away, so I turn to find out what it is. It is Alfred. He has his professional butler face on, but I still get the impression he is very smug about something. Clark’s shaking his hand like they are closer than hanging out with the same guy. 

“Alfred! When did you get back? Does it mean anything I should know about?” That last question is a little softer, like Clark thinks Alfred’s here to tell him to move into the Manor or something. 

“As much as I wish I brought such news, Master Clark, I have come to speak to Miss Lane.” 

Now I’m confused and Clark looks like he is floating. What is going on? Did Bruce hire Alfred back so he could fire me? Would Alfred agree to that? What secret message has Alfred passed to Clark that has him about to dance in the middle of the office? Is it the Master Clark thing, or is that what he called him when I was at the manor? I wish I had taken notes. Alfred’s bowing to me, so I get up from my perch on Clark’s desk and smile at him. 

“Miss Lane, during the recent transfer of ownership, it seems that your annual salary increase was not credited to you. Your next paycheck will reflect this increase, but Master Bruce has instructed me to provide you with this check for the back pay. It also includes a small amount to cover any hardship you may have encountered and a gratuity for your outstanding work.” 

My hand is trembling as I reach for the paper, and I’m too far gone to even look at it. I’m expecting to be fired, and Bruce pays me back wages I didn’t even know were missing? And a tip for doing my job? I thought he hated me and how I did my job! I swear Clark is so happy he’s vibrating behind Alfred, even as he’s looking at my check. 

“Gee Lois, it looks like you can finally pay me that fifty you owe me.” He almost reaches that fresh off the farm innocence he showed up with, but it does snap me out of my daze. 

“What fifty?” 

“Golly Lois, you bet me Batman wasn’t real, don’t you remember?” I never mentioned that and had really hoped he never would either. But he defiantly won. 

“Fine, Clark. Let me deposit this and you’ll get your blood money.” I’m not actually mad at him, but he takes my tirades in stride so I never felt the need to hold back around him. Alfred surprises me by turning around and whispering something to Clark. Behind his glasses, Clark’s eyes get big and then he laughs loud enough the whole office turns to look. I don’t see Alfred as the dirty joke type, so I don’t bother trying to hide my curiosity as he turns back to me. 

“It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss Lane. You have a nice day.” He bows and I don’t know how to respond to that. 

“You too, Alfred.” He straightens at my voice and turns to walk away after saying goodbye to ‘Master’ Clark. The office has gone back to staring at their solitaire games since Clark quit laughing like that. Clark still looks like he’s on some kind of happy drug. “What did he say to you?” 

“He was encouraging me to not collect my winnings from you.” 

“I don’t see not getting fifty bucks funny enough for that kind of laugh, no matter how rich your boyfriend is!” I swear the word boyfriend just made him glow for a second. 

“An old English proverb about comeuppance and loaded dice. If you make me tell you, I’m collecting the money.” I’m still trying to decide if the answer is worth fifty when Clark gets a text. He reads it and the glowing is back. Must be something wrong with the lighting. 

“Well?” It takes my bossiest, most demanding tone to get him to remember I’m there. He hands me the phone while he shuts down his computer and grabs his stuff. No need to take notes, because I think that message will be burned in my brain forever, along with images of what it implies. Clark comes over to get his phone back and kisses me on the forehead. 

“Will you tell Perry I’m taking the rest of the day off? Thanks, Lois.” Can’t wait for me to reply, as his brain has gone on vacation. His brain is so gone he heads for the stairs and I see him going up instead of down. 

Kent’s a smart guy and I don’t know how Bruce could melt his brain like this. I don’t know what makes Bruce so special. There is a mystery there I’m going to solve one day, but in the mean time Clark gets someone to love. Clark I do know, and I hope Bruce returns half of that love because nice guy Kent’s got it coming to him. As for me, maybe I should set my sights a little lower than aliens from the stars. Perry has photos of a great looking son he’s afraid I’ll meet. I like my life, and I’m not necessarily lonely, I just want somebody to send me that text that’s permanently etched in my memory. I can see it on the back of my eyelids as I lean back against the desk. 

_Lunch. Your place. Now. Want food? It’d better arrive before you. B_


End file.
